


Monty Python and the Ultimate Boon

by ThePurpleMeanie



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Humor, Isekai, NOT based on a true story, Parody, RPF, Surreal, don't expect historical accuracy, this is a very silly fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePurpleMeanie/pseuds/ThePurpleMeanie
Summary: While filming The Meaning of Life, the Pythons are suddenly summoned into a world that exists outside of our universe and are tasked with defeating a mysterious entity known as Id, as well as it's terrifying guardians The Seven Sages of Stages. Why is it that this world is depending on a British comedy troupe from Earth to deal with their problems? The Pythons would certainly like to know.This strange world called Rawmaish is filled to the brim with surreal landscapes, bizarre denizens, and operates on seemingly nonsensical logic, but if the Pythons want to go home they're going to have to get through it using the very wits that made them famous.WARNING: This is going to be a very silly fanfiction.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 15





	1. A Day in the Life of the Anas platyrhynchos

_July 17th, 1982, 3:50 AM._

Principal photography of _The Meaning of Life_ was now five days in. Perhaps _swimmingly_ would not be the correct word for how it was going; after all, it had only really just begun, but compared to the rather cumbersome screenwriting stage which was characterized by frequent dead ends and thrown-out ideas, and especially compared to the filming of _The Holy Grail_ , all in all it seemed like it was going to be wading comfortably. Filming was expected to wrap up in a couple months or so.

Key word being "expected", for at this exact date and time, filming was about to be delayed significantly. 

It can only be speculated what the Pythons were doing during this specific time in the world that you and I know, but for the sake of this story let's surmise that most of them were fast asleep, or about to sleep. Maybe one or more of them would still be up and about at a pub, or in the bathroom, or walking down a street, what have you. Where they would be sleeping and what they would be doing really doesn't matter, however, all that matters is that during this time they would be away from the world at large not performing... when no one was watching.

Now, at 3:50 AM, a message from somewhere outside the known universe began its brief transmission intended only for seven people on the planet Earth: 

_"You may never forgive me for what I am about to do, but I do not ask for your sympathy, and in turn you will receive little from me."_

And in an instant, seven people were plucked from the planet Earth. 

* * *

A drop of water awoke Michael Palin from his sleep. With a _plop_ it splashed onto his forehead and into his eyes, and he squirmed. Eyes squeezed shut out of instinct, Michael stretched his hands around himself, - numbly, he recognized the bed was empty but was not yet conscious enough to pay it any thought. He sat up and another bead of water spattered the top of his head, which brought him closer to awareness. 

Michael's first tangible thought of the day was _Is there a leak?_ An unintelligible mumble passed his lips, and the mumble reverberated. Michael's eyes snapped open. 

He was in near total darkness with only a distant tunnel of light to barely illuminate the walls, but even under these low-light conditions, Michael could make out from the stalactites reaching from the black like claws that for some reason he was currently inside a cave. 

It took him a few seconds to react to his surroundings, but Michael soon had the bedsheets in a vise-like grip in his hands. He called out to the darkness, "Very funny, dragging me all the way out here. Was it worth it carrying the bed out the door and down the street? _Heh,_ you'll all be feeling that soon enough!" The only person to reply was Michael himself.

Somewhere deep inside of him, the rational part of his mind knew that this couldn't simply be a bit of fooling around from one of the others - oh sure, they'd pull some good ones over him from time to time, like sneaking into his hotel room and jumping out to scare him, but they wouldn't pull something as intricate as _this._ They weren't like that. Yet Michael ignored that rational feeling for the simple reason that he was terribly frightened and he didn't want to face whatever the true cause of this was.

After a few seconds Michael called out once more, "I can't believe Helen let you go on with this! Alright, you can come out now, you got me." Finally, a reply came from beside him,

"This is no joke, Mr. Palin." 

Michael shrieked and tumbled out of his bed, but was stopped from his escape plan by him falling onto his left elbow. The scraping along the rock-solid ground and the stinging that shot through his whole arm killed any remaining shred of thought that this was a dream. As Michael clutched his left arm, the source of the voice then said, "I understand this whole situation is discombobulating for you, sir, but do be careful of your surroundings." 

The figure waved their hand with a slight motion and the pain was gone. At the moment, Michael didn't particularly care how this was done and was temporarily relieved. He looked up at the figure, who was clad in a dark robe that covered the body and most of the face, standing beside the bed looking down at him. The voice belonged to a woman, or at least something in the form of a woman, a raspy sound that was similar to a Mid-Atlantic affectation that befits an aged Hollywood starlet who also happens to be a lifetime smoker. Had the person been beside Michael the whole time and his eyes hadn't yet adjusted enough to the darkness to see her?

"Ah, thank you?" answered Michael. "You wouldn't happen to know who did this to me, would you?"

"I did."

A shiver ran down Michael's spine, and it wasn't from the water dripping from the roof of the cave. 

"I think I've had just about enough of this!" his voice trembled, "Who are you, and what's going on?" 

For a second, Michael thought he saw a flash of teeth, "All in good time, Mr. Palin." The woman chuckled, "You're the last one I've spoken to, and you've been the most polite of them all. Perhaps it's true what they say about you." 

_Would you like to test me?_ Michael didn't dare say that aloud. He became aware of the moist floor dampening his trouser legs and he stood to his feet. The woman went on in a sickeningly cheerful tone that was no doubt meant to rile him, "Go on, sir, a few of your friends are right outside, and the others will soon be with you!" 

Michael was more than glad to get away from the woman, and he dashed towards the light. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to be running through a wet cave, but Michael was _just_ careful enough not to slip and fall. His heart had jumped at the mention of the others, and although whatever awaited him on the other side was sure to be dreadful, he was eager to see some familiar faces.

As he came closer to the outside, the stone beneath Michael's feet transitioned to sand. He turned a corner and was met with a blast of wind and an unfamiliar sight: the sky was a uniform lavender, yet the light felt like the middle of the day, and both the sand and the sea that lapped the shore were various shades of wine-red. He wasn't in England anymore, that much was certain. 

The foreign horizon was oppressive in its unfamiliarity, but Michael sighed - standing together by the distant shoreline, John Cleese and Terry Jones turned to him and waved. The three sprinted to meet each other halfway,

"Oh, thank God," Terry shouted, "if you weren't here with us, I don't know _what_ we'd do!" They came to a sudden stop when they met, kicking sand into each others' shoes in the process, but such a minor irritation didn't matter. The three of them embraced as if they hadn't seen each other in many years and not just a few hours ago, and Michael could tell from the way Terry and John laughed and pressed their hands against his back that a weight had been lifted from their shoulders by the sight of him. 

But that relief wouldn't last long. Seconds after they let go, the smiles trailed from the three men's faces. Michael said to the other two,

"I can't imagine either of you know what's going on better than I do." John folded his arms, the lines of his face sank. Terry shook his head,

"Let me guess, some old bitty came and told you absolutely nothing." Michael tried to grin again, but he couldn't muster it. Terry pointed to a grassy hill beyond the beach a ways down from the cave that peaked above the trees, "Is that Eric coming down from over there?" They squinted at the man coming down the hill, and as he approached them, the three could make out Eric Idle's face. 

Eric was carrying a bundle of clothes in his arms walking past a flock of ducks that were currently making enough noise to drown out the ocean waves. He had reached a clearing through the trees at the bottom of the hill when Michael recognized a multi-colored jacket hanging from one of his arms that belonged to a fellow Python - Graham Chapman. 

Eric broke out into a jog and crossed the beach. He leaned over, his eyes set on John and Terry, panting, "I could hear you two shouting at each other from the other side of that hill _-hah-_ nice to see you, Mike, _hah_..." 

"Where's Gray?" John asked him; it was clear from the way he was standing that he was trying to employ the age-old tactic of the British Stiff Upper Lip, but his words still came out tightened. Eric stood back upright, his body stiffened. He froze, and John snapped, _"Well?"_

Taking a deep breath, Eric explained rapidly, "Well, I woke up and after some old woman nagged me, I was running around the woods too panicked to even scream my head off when I saw a bed just sitting there under the trees, and these clothes were on the ground so I picked them up, and then -" He stopped just as suddenly as he started. He tilted his head towards a duck that had padded alongside him all the way down the hill. 

The bird now quacked furiously and fluttered over to the other three, flapping its white wings at them. Michael, John, and Terry shuffled away from it.

"You can't be serious!" Terry scoffed. "What do you think you're pulling, Eric?" 

"How do you think _I_ feel?" Eric actually looked hurt by the accusation. "I'm still not sure I _haven't_ gone totally mad! He answers to his name, go on, try it!" The duck folded its wings and gazed up at the three with beady eyes. 

John took a tentative step forward. "Um... Gray? Quack once if you're Gray, quack twice if you're not."

_"Quack!"_

John rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous. It's probably a coincidence that the thing - _GAAAH!_ " The duck nipped at John's leg and he lightly kicked it away. Michael, however, was convinced,

"Since we've been put out in the middle of nowhere, I think we can all agree that something unnatural's going on here," he said. "When I met the woman, I fell and my elbow was smarting, but she waved her hand and the pain was gone!"

A bitter grin crossed Terry's face, "Well, the alternative's that Gray is somewhere streaking out in the woods as we speak. I wouldn't put it past him, but I guess we ought to keep an open mind." John looked back down at the duck who was most certainly Graham,

"Sorry about that," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "it's just that this whole situation is very strange, and I just..." John couldn't finish. The duck version of Graham waddled over and patted a wing over the leg he had just tried to bite.

"Quack."

"It was a woman in a robe, wasn't it?" Michael chimed in.

"Quack." The Graham-duck bobbed his head up and down. 

The four, er, _five_ of them stood on the beach in silence. The rapid succession of seemingly-impossible events occurring within a matter of minutes had rattled their usual quick-wit to a snail's pace, leaving their minds floating dangerously close to an altered state of consciousness. And one of them couldn't speak at the moment, anyway. 

After a pregnant pause that lasted for several minutes, a familiar voice rang out of the woods right next to the cave, "Some reunion, huh? And we've _been_ reunited for a while now, jeez!"

Terry Gilliam stepped out and walked confidently towards the group, and following just behind him was Carol Cleveland, who was a little dazed but otherwise seemed calm. Michael had expected to see the other Pythons, but he was somewhat taken aback when he saw Carol. Maybe the older woman believed she was being thoughtful by including Carol in the group. If this were some reunion special far off in the future like Terry G said, one that didn't involve kidnapping, it might have been that way. 

"Where's Graham?" asked Carol. Eric replied,

"He's been transmogrified into a waterfowl, as you can see." Carol's previously dulled eyes widened, and the anseriformized Graham bowed his head politely. 

"Shit, that sucks," said Terry G, whose underreaction to this latest turn of of events along with Carol didn't surprise Michael. They'd all been beaten into submission by this strange new location already. 

Now that they were all together again, a bit of the tension that was weighing down on them like the ocean on the sand right by subsided ever so slightly, but like the rhythm of the waves, the tension left its mark on them, and it was about to come right back in full and then some.

The old woman had returned. 

Nobody heard or saw her approach, but the seven gathered closer together. Somehow, being in the outside didn't reveal much about the woman's face underneath the hood, and Michael could only make out the vague black lines of a mouth and nose emerging from a marginally lighter but still dark face. 

She spoke to them in that raspy voice of hers, "Others who have been brought here would be tearing themselves apart by now. Yes, maybe there's hope for you lot after all." She seemed satisfied with herself. 

The Pythons were close enough to each other to share in the heat that emanated from them as their confusion turned into fury, but they were still afraid of the stranger, of what she would do to them if she perceived something from them as a slight. Closer to the ground, Graham fluttered his wings around himself in agitation. They were all far from fools, but Michael got the feeling that in this instance they might snap out of desperation for wanting to go home.

Fearing that his more confrontational comrades would royally fuck up dealing with the woman, Michael stepped forward,

"Alright, you've got the power here. You can tell us what you want, and we'll try our best to understand." He didn't need to turn around to know that the others didn't care much for his display of respect, but they certainly weren't going to say anything about it.

The woman doubled over in a fit of creaky giggles. The Pythons drew closer to each other still, until all their bodies made contact. 

After nearly a minute passed of this, one of the seven were about to lose their patience and confront her once more; but then, the woman stopped and composed herself, "My good man, I should hope you all understand or else I've wasted everyone's time!" 

She went on, "Now that you're all together, I won't drag this out - ah, but first, there's one more thing to take care of before I forget..." She pointed at the duck formerly classified as a human. 

"If you don't mind me asking..." John began to say with caution. "why _did_ you turn Graham into a duck in the first place?" The woman frowned,

"I was greeting your friend when he suddenly lunged towards me, the damn fool, thinking he could get away with it. I decided to teach him his first lesson about this place, one that I would advise the rest of you to heed: This world does not function the same as Earth, and you cannot approach it as such."

 _That's not too far-fetched for Gray_ , Michael thought, though in this instance he didn't blame Graham for what he did. Poor fellow, being tossed into a completely different location had disturbed all of them in one way or another. Why couldn't she simply _tell_ him about how there's magic in this place, wherever it is, or demonstrate her awesome powers in a less disconcerting way?

The woman waved her hand and in that same moment Graham was human again, the force of him returning to his normal size nearly knocking over the whole group. With a great gasp, Graham collapsed onto his knees in the sand. No doubt the sudden change from being just over two feet tall to his normal six-foot-four was a shock. Eric handed his clothes back to him. The transformation happened so fast Michael didn't see if there was some middle-stage in between. After forming a mental image of what that might look like, Michael was glad he didn't have to see it.

While a shaking Graham got dressed, Terry J was the next to find enough courage to speak to the woman,

"Did you insinuate that this place isn't Earth? Are we on some sort of alien planet?" 

"It is alien in the sense that it is unfamiliar to you. None of your rocketships could ever reach this place, no matter how fast they traveled." She spread her arms out reverently, "This world exists in its own dimension, the only object in its universe. I've observed your universe for quite some time, and I've brought you here because in all the galaxies, in all the planets, only you seven have any chance of helping this place." She reached a hand toward them. "Pythons... I welcome you to Rawmaish."

And darkness fell upon them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I would never do a real person fic based on contemporary figures, but this is basically a joke fic. It's Monty Python, for goodness' sake! 
> 
> This is actually kind of a parody of an old Beatles RPF called "With Strings Attached" which has the premise of the Beatles being put into another world. I was reading it and I thought it was very amusing that the author put all this effort into creating an original fictional world and then shoving the Beatles in there, especially since them being the Beatles has so little to do with the plot that the author could've changed their names/backstories and not much would have been different... and I guess I'm doing the same thing now.
> 
> You don't have to read "With Strings Attached" to understand this fic, though, because other than the central conceit there really isn't much TO parody about it, since it's pretty self aware about itself.


	2. Sorry About All the Exposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An experimental chapter taking place almost entirely inside a literal black void. Very riveting stuff!

It must have taken every bit of mental fortitude for the Pythons not to cry out in terror at the emptiness that surrounded them, but they couldn't prevent themselves from recoiling. Michael made the mistake of looking down for a brief moment and his stomach felt like it was filled with stones. He tried closing his eyes but the only difference was that he couldn't see the others, so there was no point in doing it. Terry J's hands were strangling his arm and Michael had to tap them so he wouldn't squeeze so hard.

From what little could be read from the stranger's half-covered face, she was the only one who was having any fun at all. These measly, powerless humans were her playthings, and the seven knew that she was going to toy with them for as long as she wanted before discarding them. The question, or one of many, was a matter of _when_ she would stop this.

In a whimper Michael barely recognized, John cried, "Now was was _that_ for?!" John's façade of cool, somewhat detached decorum had fallen plenty of times before in the years the others knew him, but they didn't think they'd ever seen and heard him so genuinely _terrified._

"Well, I didn't want you running off on me," the woman explained. "It's not that I doubt you'll behave yourselves, it's just that you wouldn't believe how many people think they'd be better off not listening to me! Better safe than sorry, you know." 

She put her hands on her hips, "What a sorry-looking crowd you all are. If you succeed in this quest you'll regret ever feeling doubt about it..."

"Quest?" sputtered Michael. "You mean you're expecting us to be heroes or something?" The woman nodded,

"Oh yes, and I think it'll be an improvement for all of you. How many in your profession get the opportunity to save the world?"

At these words, Graham broke from the group. The others whispered at him frantically, trying to tell him that this was a very bad idea; John and Michael made a half-hearted attempt to physically restrain him by putting their arms in front of him, but Graham pushed them all away. He stood in the void between the group of six and the woman. Graham towered over her, and for a moment it was easy to forget who had the real power here. Maybe his prior experience with her convinced him that she had already done her worst and wasn't going to do anything more,

"Is it really a world worth saving if you're bringing _us_ into it?" he asked dispassionately. "You seem to be aware of who we are, what we do, all that." The others braced themselves for the woman's retribution, but to their surprise it didn't come. 

Instead, she responded to him with only a small hint of irritation in her voice, "There have been plenty of people from this planet who have tried, and they all failed. Such is the power of Id."

"Id?"

"Let me put this in a way that you would understand, Doctor Chapman," she said frankly, "there is a sickness plaguing Rawmaish, and that sickness is called Id, and it also includes his guardians, The Seven Sages of Stages, and his followers, the Iddites. Their hold over the people has made them too complacent, and the few who aren't afraid are too stupid to do anything about it. That is why I have turned to outsiders, though so far the results have been the same." Her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Perhaps you will be different."

A few seconds passed without the woman elaborating. She was probably letting her words sink in - and sink in they did. A migraine threated to repeatedly pound Michael's head, and beside him the others were starting to loosen up; however, their fear didn't dissipate so much as it was now making room for even more confusion. 

All these unfamiliar names whirled through Michael's mind. It wasn't so hard to extrapolate what the woman was saying; when you stripped away the names, it was simply a collection of tropes in your standard fantasy story: There's a supposedly evil tryant who's caused a bunch of ruckus, he's got a group of enforcers, there's a cult/religion in his name, and someone's got to do something about it. Plus, the woman evidently fancied herself a mentor figure. How strangely rote.

But what continued to boggle Michael was exactly what could have possessed her into thinking that bringing a comedy troupe into it would be a good idea. Confidence timidly bloomed within Michael; he joined Graham's side and spoke up again, 

"That's all well and good, but what makes us so special? What are we supposed to do, write and perform a show so brilliant it inspires the masses?" He then couldn't help but throw caution to the void and add a cheeky punchline, "That's a tall order. I think we're going to have to discuss our rates." To cap it all off, Michael used his acting skills to give the woman a grin that maybe showed a little too many teeth. Someone let out a wheeze behind him, probably Terry G, and Graham turned to him and nodded. 

The woman clenched a fist, but her expression remained the same, "How humble you are," her teeth were gritted. "The fact of the matter is that you seven, of all the creatures on Earth, have demonstrated through your work an exploration of ideas that will give you an understanding of this place.

Simply put, I think you'll be very adaptable to Rawmaish... Warriors would try to solve every problem through brute force, scientists would attempt to explain that which cannot be explained, and so on..."

She began to weave her way around the seven at a deliberate pace, brushing her fingers along their shoulders as if she were trying to comfort them. As she passed Michael and Graham, Michael only caught a glimpse of the details on her face before she lowered her head; if his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, he was sure he'd seen dark blue lips and ashen skin. 

As the woman circled the other five, Terry G cleared his throat, "Oh, you're talking about the Surrealism stuff we put in?" He pointed out, "We're not the first to use it, and we're not gonna be the last. I wouldn't even say we're the best at it, either. I mean, we're not Dali, Breton -"

"But the Pythons are a whole greater than the sum of its parts," she interrupted, "the seven of you putting your heads together can accomplish great things." Carol, who was trying to look poised but still came across just as lost as the boys, was the next to question her,

"I don't know if you know this, Madame, but I'm not exactly part of the writing team. I appreciate your including me, but-"

"You sell yourself short, Ms. Cleveland," the woman laughed and patted her on the back, "I'd be a little more grateful if I were you. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to accomplish something meaningful! Besides, seven is a very magical number." 

Carol's shoulders sagged. She must have planned to convince the woman that bringing her here was a mistake and she should be sent back to Earth straight away. Too bad it didn't work, Michael thought, because if at least one of them were able to go home to tell the others what was going on, he'd consider that a victory...

Wait, the others... _The film! Their families!_ His heart bolted once more.

Then, it was Eric's turn; he put his hand up to his head, "Um, this might be a stupid question, but is this going to be a particularly _dangerous_ quest we're going on? Just a hint would be nice." The woman came up to Eric and pinched one of his cheeks; he grimaced at her touch, his knees buckled.

"Poor, poor, little things!" she cooed. "Afraid of death, are you? Dying before your time would be _horrifically_ awkward, wouldn't it? Fortunately for you, I'll be with you the whole time even if you can't see me." She swept her hand over her head in a theatrical gesture, "As I'm sure you've gathered by now, I can nudge things to my liking. Little things, but you need not worry about grievous bodily harm. Of course, there are other ways your journey can be impeded that I can't help you with; after all, I can't do _everything_ for you..."

Graham huffed through his nose, but before Michael could do anything about it, he was already storming back over to the woman, this time stopping close enough for him to nearly scrape against her robe. Michael rushed back to the rest of the group. It didn't seem to matter how many times the woman was going to brush Graham off,

 _"Oh, really?"_ his voice had lowered to a growl, "All this power, and you still need puppets to do the work for you? Against the rules, is it?" Predictably, the woman was unfazed. She poked his chest with her finger,

"Keep up that attitude, Doctor, and you'll find yourself turned into a single-celled organism!" 

Graham slapped her hand away. 

Michael ignored the dizziness setting in. John let out a nearly-inaudible groan. Eric slapped his forehead. Terry G stifled a laugh. Carol turned her head in worry.

Terry J did none of those things. He stood with Graham, having been emboldened by his shameless show of contempt,

"It's _your_ attitude that's the problem!" Terry exclaimed. "You rip us away from our homes, our loved ones, you strand us out in the middle of nowhere and tell us some rubbish about a destiny that for _some reason_ you think we're qualified to reach... and yet you continuously reprimand us for asking the most basic of questions and reacting justifiably poorly to these circumstances? I think we can all agree that _you're_ the one who's acting unreasonably!"

His words touched the other Pythons. Maybe they could defeat someone stronger than all of them with words. Maybe this was all a test by the woman to see if they were capable of using their minds before letting them out into the rest of the world. The seven gathered as one. A chorus of "Yes", "Exactly", and "That's right"'s followed. They were going to show the woman that they weren't going to be intimidated so easily by her. 

It didn't work.

The woman put her arms to her sides and soon her feet were dangling; before long, she was hovering far above anyone's reach, and the seven strained to see her. Under the surface of her vitriol, the woman was taking great pleasure these demonstrations of her powers, with tiny bursts of stiff cackles escaping the surface of her vitriol. 

"Do you really think I only brought a bunch of humans here for my own amusement?" her teeth were bared, they almost looked like fangs in the shadows of her hood. "I wouldn't have turned to Earth if I didn't have to. Who else was I supposed to get for this, the Not Ready for Prime Time Players? _Pfft!_ They couldn't possibly wrap their heads around this! Well, actually, maybe the Canadian wouldn't have been a bad candidate...

Anyway, I think I've given you enough background information. I grow tired of all this talk. It's clear that now is the time for you to face Rawmaish head-on, what good is idle chatter compared to the real thing?" 

All the courage the Pythons had built up was destroyed.

"What are you going to to do?" screamed Terry J, who was gripping Michael's arm for the second time.

"Since you don't seem to be taking this very seriously, I'm going to start you off without the luxury of being together as a group, and _then_ you'll be grateful to have me on your side!"

True panic finally set in. A couple of them got on their knees and begged, a couple of them cursed at her, and the rest could do nothing but shut their eyes tight and look away. It's up to you to decide who did what. 

John was the last to try and reason with the stranger, _"What about the people we left behind? What are they supposed to do?"_

"I know you were busy with your latest picture, but I'd rather not bother telling the Earthlings about Rawmaish, it would leave such a mess. Truth be told, I don't have the luxury of time, either. So, listen to this last word of advice for now: I suggest you get on with it." 

She snapped her fingers, and the darkness enveloped them again. 

* * *

Michael and Terry J were still holding onto each other for dear life when the darkness lifted as fast as an eyelid. The outside light burned their eyes and they fell to the ground, grass cushioning their knees, and they finally let go of the other. 

"I can't believe her!" Terry gasped, "What's she done-" He leaped to his feet and whipped his head around every direction. "Eric? Gray?" Nothing. _"Anybody?"_ Still nothing. Terry pulled Michael up to his feet. 

"She did say she was going to separate us, didn't she?" sighed Michael. "At least we're not alone, and hopefully the others aren't, either." Michael followed Terry's line of sight: he became aware of all the noises around them: From the void, the two of them had been flung into the middle of a park somewhere inside a cityscape unlike anything from Earth. 

Then, from out of nowhere, a bird-like creature covered in pink fuzz approached Michael and Terry,

"Are you lost?" it buzzed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, don't expect me to always be updating so fast. I just happen to be struck with inspiration for now. I'm sure it'll eventually peter out and I'll go on at a slower pace.
> 
> Going into this thing, I knew that this probably won't get a lot of views because the Monty Python fandom isn't exactly a hot spot for fanfiction (which I think is probably a good thing overall), so I want to say in advance that I'll be grateful for the responses I DO get. I'm not really writing this thing for the views anyway, it's more for my amusement, and for anyone who happens to stumble upon it. It'll be like an inside joke.


	3. A Travelogue Starring Michael Palin, Featuring Terry Jones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Terry J end up in the streets of a strange city.

Michael and Terry only gawked at the creature, who was tilting it's head to the side in expectation. Or at least, it was _probably_ in expectation. The layers of fuzz covering it's body didn't betray any sort of readable expression, and on top of that it had a fly-like mouthpart and glassy beads for eyes half-buried under pink tufts that might have been it's eyebrows. 

The men might not have been so shocked if the one who brought them here didn't look human herself, albeit a possibly unnaturally-colored one. Her appearance gave them a subconscious presumption that the other denizens of Rawmaish would look similar. 

And the creature that spoke to them now was clearly not going to be an exception - Michael and Terry's eyes darted back and forth, others just as surreal as the pink thing were among them in the distance: A jogger made out of vines with an unrecognizable flower growing out of it's head was making it's way around a trail; a large pile of green gelatinous goo sat on a bench, it's bottom oozing through the gaps; an abstract shape that could best be described as looking like it it had the body of a twisted balloon drifted lazily through the air...

These were just a few of the bizarre citizens that were going about their daily lives, and besides the pink creature, not a single one of them paid Michael and Terry any thought. This was a park so vast it could comfortably fit a decent-sized village within its boundaries, to the point where everyone was spread far apart from each other, so it was almost a stroke of luck that Michael and Terry were noticed as looking out of the ordinary at all.

The park itself, for all its size, was mostly barren other than the bare minimum of what could be considered a park. Cobble paths cut through and around the blue-green grass, there were plenty of benches to go around, but the landscape was dotted with leafless trees that looked petrified. Most people from Earth would consider the place a waste of space, but Michael and Terry weren't focusing on the real estate. 

The creature shuffled it's thin talons(?) around the cobblestone it was standing on, "Well, are ya lost or what?" Underneath the buzzing filter was an approximation of a vague New Yorker accent. 

Michael couldn't take it anymore. The psychological dam he had tried to build cracked wide open and the reservoir came flooding. If one were to close their eyes, Michael would sound like a dying moose. Unable to form even a single coherent syllable, Michael tried to stumble towards the creature in an effort to communicate through body language, but blinded by his tears he instead bumped into one of the lifeless trees, so he gave up and leaned against it to keep himself from falling.

Terry came over and laid his hands on Michael's shoulders, and although Michael couldn't see it at the moment, his eyes were glistening. The creature looked around, clearly uncomfortable. It was about to walk away when Terry stopped him by shouting,

" _Yes!_ Yes, we are lost! Could you please tell us where we are?" The creature turned back around and exhaled loudly,

"This is Funtime Park."

"But where?"

"On Fifth Artery!" 

"I mean what city is this?" 

The creature snorted, "Just passing through, eh?" it shook it's head. "This is Megacorpus, but if you wanna get more specific, you're in the middle of the Musculus borough. Don't know how you haven't figured that out by now." 

The creature's near-New York accent was starting to make sense now. By this point, Michael's sobbing had quieted down to a high-pitched squeal. The creature hesitantly leaned forward and it's voice shifted towards a more gentle tone, "You okay, buddy?" Michael managed to stop crying, but he was still sniffling too much to speak, so Terry took over for him,

"We've... had some trouble recently," he said carefully, not sure if the average citizen of this city would have any idea who the strange woman was. "We'd really like to get back to our home, so is there any place we could go to for information, like a visitor center, or an office...?"

The citizen stared at Terry, "Well, you're pretty far away from one of those. I think the nearest one is the Hamstring Information Center, but that's a really long walk." It paused for a few seconds. "If you're in real bad trouble, maybe ya oughta go to the cell corps, there's plenty of those walking around -"

"No, thank you," Terry told it firmly, "it's not that serious." Michael looked up at Terry in recognition. If the two understood the citizen correctly, the cell corps were this city's version of the police, and if anything the strange woman had told them was true, they weren't going to be very helpful. 

The citizen shrugged and lifted an arm with indistinct feathery fingers on the end behind it, "Okay, so unless you really like walkin', I suggest you take a taxibug. Go past that gate over there, you see it? You'll come out onto the street, walk around for a bit till you find a buggy stopping by - it doesn't matter which way ya go, you'll find one sooner or later - tell the driver ya wanna go to the Hamstring Information Center and there you go! Have ya got all that?"

Terry had to take a moment to register the almost-American dialect, but he nodded. The citizen strode over to Terry and Michael with it's elongated legs, "Sorry I can't help ya more than that," it said, "but I gotta get back to work and it's in the opposite direction of where you two are goin', know what I mean?"

"Of course," answered Terry. "Thank you, anyway." He smiled, and he meant it.

"No problem." The citizen extended it's hand and Terry gave it a grateful shake. They parted ways and Terry went back to the tree where Michael was still leaning. He pulled Michael away from it and put his arm around his shoulder. 

As the men split from the citizen, Terry turned his head and waved back at the person, who called out "Good luck!" before it's long legs carried it far away. Terry and Michael made their way down the cobblestone path at a brisk pace. Running around a city was only going to make them tired, but at the same time they didn't exactly want to stick around here. 

Just like the citizen said, there was a steel gate at the end of the park. For as much as Michael and Terry hurried to move on, however, the prospect of having to enter the city itself was an uneasy one. Funtime Park, despite the discolored grass and minimalist design, looked relatively normal. It was like a protective bubble of familiarity shielding against the unfamiliar buildings that scraped the lavender sky, for this city spat in the face of physicists and laughed. 

The architecture had one theme uniting it, and it was that it seemed like a very imaginative child who didn't know very much about math or engineering was hired to design it, and the construction workers carried those designs out to a T. Floors were stacked on top of each other in random directions, the concept of basic geometry appeared to be foreign, and the buildings themselves were constructed into all manner of 3-dimensional forms that would make an architect on Earth weep for being forced to follow the laws of physics.

The gate was still a ways off, so Michael finally spoke again,

"Sorry about that scene over there," he rubbed the last of the water from his eyes, "it's just... people must be noticing by now that we're gone. They're probably worried sick." Terry sighed,

"Who knows what's happening back there?" a dull grin appeared on his face. "Since all of us are gone, you think they'll get to investigating our disappearance? I reckon it'll be international news!" The two laughed, but it was more forced than anything. They pushed away the images forming in their minds of what their children must be going through, or soon to be going through.

They came upon the gate and stopped just in front of its steely bars. Several people passed by them such as a bundle of strings bunched up into the shape of a biped, and a cloud of very thick blue fog. Beyond them lay a sidewalk, and beyond that a road with cars (or buggies, as the citizen put it) driving along. If you focused your eyes on only the road, the city would look like any other. The cars themselves had an art-deco style to them, if art-deco were covered in the most garish colors a bored grandmother could imagine.

Michael and Terry stood on the sidewalk and waited for any vehicle that might be recognizable as a taxi. In the meantime, the two scanned the surrounding streets and crosswalks for any sign of their fellow Pythons. They knew it would probably be pointless, since the woman really wanted to inconvenience them, but it wouldn't hurt to at least try.

After a minute, Terry muttered out of the blue, _"Damn it!"_

"What?" 

"I just realized we don't have any money, and even if we did, I doubt they'd be able to exchange our currency."

"We'll think of something," assured Michael, "and besides, we don't really have any other option. That person didn't tell us any directions on how to get to that place by foot, so we'd better stay put unless you want to wander around aimlessly." Terry wasn't very certain about this, but he concurred.

Just then, a dark purple car a little different from the others came cruising down the street, with an illuminated sign on the front that Michael and Terry couldn't read, but they were relieved that it was very much like the black cabs in England.

Both Michael and Terry hailed the cab, which obligingly came to a stop right in front of them. The two stepped into the red-lined interior. 

They almost regretted doing so, because as soon as they opened the door, a putrid smell filled their nostrils. It was hard to describe because they hadn't smelled anything quite like it before, other than it was a little wet and maybe came from something dead. The driver of the cab was a squid-like creature that looked as though it had grown legs and crawled out of the bottom of the sea, but the scent wasn't coming from it, it covered every inch of the interior, which wasn't lined with red velvet but instead was as if someone carved out the inside of a cab from a slab of hardened meat. 

Michael tried to cover his nose with his hand as inconspicuously as he could, "Could you take us to the Hamstring Information Center, please?" he croaked. Terry, meanwhile, faced the smell head-on, but he probably wasn't going to get used to it anytime soon. 

The cab drove off. Michael settled in, placing his elbow against the window (with his hand still strategically placed over his nose) and stared at the passing city-folk and nonsensical buildings. His eyes were still raw.

It was a good thing he'd cried back at the park. Letting at least a little bit of the pent-up misery out cleared his head. For instance, Michael only realized at that moment he was wearing one of his casual tops and trousers, and not the boxers he'd gone to bed in. The stranger worked in mysterious ways - giving the Pythons the dignity of wearing clothes on their journey but who couldn't be bothered telling them anything in detail. 

Despite everything, this was all very silly. 

* * *

_July 17th, 1982, 8:35 AM:_

John Goldstone, producer of _The Meaning of Life,_ was on the phone. He had been in his office for less than an hour when he got the message. 

"You mean all of them just up and vanished?" he asked incredulously, "You'd think someone would've seen them leaving their houses!"

"We've been hearing from some of their wives," said Peter Hannan, the cinematographer, on the other end. "They've been asking their neighbors and all that, but no one knows anything!" His voice was rising in pitch. "There's a whole crew here waiting for something to do, John, but I don't know what we're gonna do when the directors, writers, _and_ the most important actors are _all gone!_ "

John tried to calm both Peter and himself down, "Listen to me, you've still got the scripts, don't you? Just shoot as much around them as you can today, and if they don't show up by the end of it, we'll shut everything down."

"But what about _The Crimson Permanent Assurance?_ "

"I don't know, just pick someone to do it!. And keep looking for them!" John hung up the phone. He rubbed his fingers against his forehead.

If this was some kind of joke the Pythons were playing, it wasn't funny at all. If they kept this up, Universal Pictures weren't going to be happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that juggling seven central characters at once right off the bat would get to be too much too soon, so I split the Pythons into smaller groups so I can focus on them separately in more depth. This is what it's gonna be for a while.


	4. At Last the Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Graham are transported to a little town out in the middle of nowhere.

At the same time Michael and Terry J found themselves in Funtime Park, John and Graham were taken to a place both very far and very different from the city of Megacorpus. 

One second, the two were in the darkness, and in the next they were standing right in front of the entrance of a small town. Somehow, John and Graham remained upright and did not make a sound upon coming into this new location. They stood with their arms pressed to their sides, bodies and faces frozen as statues. What they were going through mentally, though, was another matter entirely. 

But for the time being, it was back to acting poised on the outside. Better to keep a move on than dwell on the recent past and go mad, they thought. John came to life again and said as casually as he could,

"Well look at that, Gray, it's just you and me, just like the old days!" It was the same tone of voice he would use for Basil Fawlty whenever Basil was pretending like everything was going well, except on _Fawlty Towers_ it was a joke. "I'll bet you Jonesy and Mikey are together, though I'm not sure where that leaves the others. Don't you think this was intentional?" 

"She's a big fan," Graham replied dryly. As a fan, the stranger was certainly a step above the ones who like to quote the shows and movies incessantly to everyone around them as if Monty Python were the gospel, but as a person, Graham didn't think very highly of her. 

Since that topic of conversation petered out, John and Graham turned to observing their new surroundings. Despite only arriving here several seconds ago, the air was pressing down on them and certainly didn't help the two feel any less overheated. 

A pale red sea of dirt stretched out in nearly every direction. This was a desert except for a large body of water, with the same blood color as before, way off in front of the two, though if this were the same sea as the one they first encountered, then they were in a completely different position from where they first started because the topography here was completely different. 

John and Graham would have likened the scene to one of those American Wild West films, save for the small town which lay before them that looked anything but. 

Instead of rickety log cabins, here were stark structures of steel aligned in neat rows along a grid. The dull grays contrasted with the wild crimsons of the soil and sea, as well as the overbearing violet of the sky; the town was a symbol of sensibility and uniformity against a chaotic land. This Soviet-esque place was quite small and the buildings didn't go up more than a few few floors, but it was tightly controlled. 

One of the town's residents stepped out of the building closest to the entrance where John and Graham stood, and when they made eye-contact with the creature, their hearts pounded even more furiously than before, though they didn't show it outwardly as long as one didn't look upon their fear-stricken faces... which was what the resident was doing at the moment. 

Fortunately for John and Graham's sense of dignity, this person clearly had no experience with human body language,

"We don't get many visitors here," greeted the person, who walked on all fours plus a few extra appendages. It had a disconcertingly sweet voice that didn't match it's spider-like body. "What's your business in Cerebellum?"

_"We - we're -"_ John squeaked, so he coughed and started over. "We aren't quite sure, to be honest. Some business about an Id or something." John might as well be honest; after all, this person could probably tell if he was lying with all those eyes that it had.

Those eight eyes widened. "I knew something like this would happen when we received a sign from the nothingness today!" It turned to it's fellow residents walking about and called out with jubilation, "Someone tell Cornelius, the Mage has given us a new gift!" The other equally fantastical residents out on the street dropped whatever they were doing and scattered off, fanning out to open doors and spread the word to their neighbors. 

The spider-townsperson motioned John and Graham to come forward with one of it's appendages, "I'll take you to Cornelius and it'll tell you everything." Before it crawled away, it added, "My name is Sigourney the Weaver, by the way." 

"Pleasure to meet you," John responded. He was glad he didn't have to shake one of those clawed hands right afterwards. Sigourney led the way down the street while John and Graham followed behind from a safe distance. 

As they passed the buildings, several people opened the windows and leaned out to look at them. Down on the ground, small groups began forming and chatter filled the air. John and Graham couldn't hear whatever gossip was going on, but the townsfolk seemed to be overjoyed to see them, so they gradually loosened up. 

John whispered into Graham's ear, "Now, you'd better not go around aggravating these people, they're probably the only friendly faces around, so if you ruin it -"

"I get the picture." Graham's tone was flippant, but John knew he could count on him to pull himself together when it really mattered. 

Sigourney was leading them towards one particular building at the end of the street that was different from all the rest in that it was made out of bricks instead of steel and had colorful stained glass windows. It was an aesthetic clash from the rest of the town, to say the least. 

They were nearly at the door when John suddenly got an urge to ask Graham a question that had been on his mind for a while, but didn't have the time to ask before,

"So... what was it like being a duck?"

"I was very low to the ground."

And that was all. John took the non-answer in stride; perhaps Graham's mind had excised nearly all memory of the transformation because there are some things man must not know. 

Finally, they arrived at their destination. Sigourney rapped on the tall door, and a few seconds later it opened for them. Sigourney entered; John and Graham looked at each other in the knowledge that there was really no other choice but to follow. 

One massive room took up most of the interior of this place, which, if it wasn't meant for an expressly religious purpose, then it was surely this town's spiritual sanctuary. There were over a dozen pews lined up on either side of the blue-carpeted aisle, and at the very back the most elaborate stained-glass window of all was displayed. The window stretched so high, John and Graham had to lean back slightly to see it all. 

The glass depicted multiple figures the two didn't recognize who were just as weird-looking as everyone else in the village, but these ones in particular were obviously meant to be portrayed as monstrous with their intentionally ugly features. These villains of the art piece were circled around and recoiling from a central figure who was depicted differently from the rest, one whom John and Graham recognized instantly upon seeing the dark-gray robe that covered half the face.

The only other occupant of this room stood waiting for the three in the aisle. It's form was the easiest to discern out of anyone John and Graham had seen so far: This person, who was probably Cornelius, was pretty much identical-looking to your typical artistic representation of a satyr with it standing on it's hind goat legs and having horns; except of course, this one didn't have a human face, but instead something closer to a goat face. Obviously.

The satyr extended it's arms, 

_"Greetings!"_ it bellowed, and the bass reverberated through the air. "You must be the ones the Mage brought from outside the nothingness!" 

"You mean her, right?" John pointed at the window.

"Of course!" 

"Yes," John sighed. "We're from Earth." He so very much would have liked to tell it they were brought here _forcibly_ , but he wasn't in the mood to potentially start an argument with these people. 

Sigourney took a seat in one of the front pews, and John and Graham stepped closer to the satyr,

"I am Cornelius the Horned, and I welcome you both to Cerebellum," it shook both their hands, "and what might your names be?" 

"John Cleese, and this is Graham Chapman." Graham said nothing and only stared blankly. Before Cornelius could respond, John hurriedly added, "Listen, it's very nice to meet you, but there's five others who were brought here and we haven't the slightest idea where they are, have you seen them around? They look very similar to Graham and I..."

Cornelius scratched it's chin. Behind them, Sigourney swooned, " _Seven!_ Oh my, now we can really get something done." The two men couldn't perceive a mouth on it's face, but if it did have one then it would surely be smiling. Cornelius shook it's head,

"We haven't seen anyone else like that as of yet, but perhaps they'll show up soon enough."

Graham finally spoke to the satyr, "That mage you clearly worship so much separated us, just so you know." There was no hint of anger in his tone, but it was unapologetically blunt. 

"Clearly, it is one of her tests," was all Cornelius had to say about that. John let go of his breath.

Cornelius changed the subject, "The Mage came to us not long ago after the latest in a long series of tragedies caused by Id and his terrible Sages," at that, Sigourney lowered it's head. "She promised us that to put an end to all this, she would bring us new heroes. Heroes from the other side of oblivion who would bring their knowledge of their world to oppose Id. Certainly, she had already brought those from other universes before, but she assured us that this time would be different. " 

"She said that humans are quite intelligent," added Sigourney, and to that John and Graham did not want to undermine it's optimism, so they remained silent.

The satyr reached into a worn satchel (which was the only thing it was wearing), "This morning, I found this object outside the door. A token to tell us you would be here soon." It pulled out a pipe. 

Graham's eyes lit up with recognition,

"That's mine," and Cornelius gave it back to him. Since the pipe was empty and he had nothing to light it with, Graham could only put it in the pocket of his jacket.

Meanwhile, John was cringing every time Cornelius said the word "heroes." Now that he was in the presence of others besides the Mage who were looking up to him and Graham, the weight of whatever they were about to do pressed down on him more and more with each passing second. Most of all, he was surprised to be feeling guilt.

John butted in for the second time, "But we hardly even know what it is we're supposed to be doing! We don't even really know who this Id is, or these Seven Sages and Iddites, or what they're doing and why." John was pacing in a circle around Cornelius, "To be frank, we're almost completely in the dark, so if you could please hurry up and tell us what's going on, that would be most helpful."

Cornelius's bright yellow eyes narrowed. It said to them slowly, "Well, that's a very long story. Where do I even begin?" He pointed up at the stained-glass window. "For centuries, Id and the Mage have been locked in a stalemate. On one side, you have Id, the Seven Sages of Stages, and the Iddites, and on the other you have the Mage and the -" 

But before the exposition could go on, the door slammed wide open and a townsperson stood waving it's knobby arms frantically,

"Cornelius!" it screamed, "The Second Sage is headed for Megacorpus!" Cornelius replied,

"We'll be right out in a moment." The townsperson left. A whole crowd of people ran past the temple. Sigourney bolted outside so fast it was a blur. Cornelius said to John and Graham, "I'll tell you more later. Now you're about to see for yourselves why you're here." Cornelius went down the aisle, and John and Graham tried to keep up.

John asked breathlessly, "What's going on out there?"

"Every once in a while Id sends out at least one of his Sages to terrorize the people," explained Cornelius. "These attacks are done randomly to catch them by surprise." 

The three exited the temple where Sigourney was gazing at the sky. Cornelius pointed at the horizon, "Look out there. Do you see that?" 

Something was flying off in the distance towards the sea. The vague outline of some kind of bird with a long wingspan could be discerned, it's coat of feathers so black it was like a hole cut out of the sky. A blood-curdling, too _humanlike_ screech erupted from the creature and silenced everyone in Cerebellum. 

Out there, the bird looked so small, but John and Graham could tell that if it came here, the town would be engulfed under it's wings. John tried to avert his eyes but he couldn't - when the Mage first told them about the Sages of Stages, he couldn't have possibly imagined they would look like _this._ For him, the word "stages" conjured images of theaters, studios, actors. 

Graham came to a realization,

"That's one of the figures on the window in there!" Even he sounded truly frightened now. Cornelius nodded,

"Indeed. That is the Blackbile Bird, the Second Sage of Stages." The satyr put a hand on both of their shoulders, "And now, we must hurry to Megacorpus." John and Graham broke away from Cornelius,

_"Are you insane?"_ John shouted. "What do you expect us to do with that thing?" Cornelius lifted it's hands and replied calmly,

"I understand that without the others, there is not so much the two of you can do, but we must go there and find them so we can prepare ourselves for the next attack."

Graham scoffed, "That'll be easy with the bird flying over our heads." 

"By the time we get there, the Second Sage will probably have completed it's task," Cornelius and Sigourney began to walk away, "and hopefully that'll be the last time it ever does so." 

With leaden feet, John and Graham followed. What were they going to do, say no? They'd probably be guilt-tripped to Hell and back.

Of all the questions that remained in their minds, a new one took center stage: If this Blackbile Bird was just a lackey, then what does Id look like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite parts of writing this so far is coming up with ridiculous chapter titles that'll confuse people who are first reading it, and then they read it and find out what it means. It's kinda like how Flying Circus episodes have titles that often have little or nothing to do with the actual episodes. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm definitely gonna try taking more time on these. I'm chugging along.


	5. The Rut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric, Terry G, and Carol get into some trouble.

Simultaneous to both Terry J and Michael as well as John and Grahams' arrivals to their destinations, the third and final group arrived at theirs. 

Eric, Terry G, and Carol popped into the middle of a courtyard. Carol staggered over to a bench and laid on her side to get her bearings, and Eric fell down on his knees gasping for air like he'd just run a marathon. Terry G, however, started to chuckle, and that chuckle exploded into howling laughter that he had to cover with both hands to keep the volume down.

"What's so funny?" groaned Carol. 

_"Everything!"_ Terry began hiccupping, "This is so fucking _-hic!-_ stupid, I can't even wrap my _-hic!-_ head around it!" Terry jumped over to Eric. "This has gotta be one of those really realistic dreams, c'mon, _-hic!-_ pinch my side!"

"Oh, get off it!" Eric pushed him away and stood up. "What I wouldn't _give_ right now to have someone tell me this were all a dream..." Carol nodded in agreement. 

If Carol had the option, she wouldn't have picked these two to be stuck with as companions, but for now she was just thankful that she wasn't by herself. The three were alone together, united by their unique positions within the Pythons: Eric as the mostly lone writer, especially during _Flying Circus_ ; Terry as the animator and sometimes-director; and Carol as the supporting actress. It _had_ to have been by design. 

Right now, the three appeared to be alone in the courtyard. Not a single other soul could be seen through any windows or walking around the streets that connected to the courtyard. The only indication that time wasn't frozen was the running fountain in the center. It would have been almost completely quiet if not for the bustling cityscape in the distance that this place was on the outskirts of. 

"Well," said Eric uncertainly, "I suppose we ought to look about. There's got to be at least one person here, right?" Carol got up from the bench, legs still a little shaky, and joined the other two. 

They gazed at the buildings circling the courtyard, unsure of where to start. It was hard to look at - literally. Every single one of these buildings were painted in the most eye-searing hues with the saturation turned all the way up: Candied reds, neon yellows, sugary pinks, blistering blues, and it all looked like it had just been given a fresh coat of paint, too. These colors along with the oblong shapes of the frameworks that leaned in every angle except straight upright gave the whole area a disorienting effect that the three tried their hardest to ignore. The whole thing didn't look like a place where people actually lived, but the theme park version of where people live. But, even the Disney parks showed more restraint than this.

Carol said out loud, "It's like we're in one of your cartoons, Terry!" and Terry's laughter was killed mid-chuckle,

"As if I would slather every inch with this shit." He was clearly insulted by the comparison. 

Eric took the lead by going over to one of the smaller buildings that was clearly meant to be some kind of flower shop with a row of unfamiliar plants lined up in the windows. He peered into the shop; the lights were still on, but he couldn't see anyone within, and the front desk was unoccupied. With the others close behind him, Eric turned the door knob. Locked. He knocked on the glass door, watching the other one at the very back at of the shop. It didn't open. He banged the door as loud as he could, and still nothing.

Carol noticed a sign posted on the door written in a language unknown to humans,

"Maybe they're closed." 

"Why would the lights still be on, then?" asked Eric. 

"They might be out to lunch, I don't know!" Carol left the men and crossed the courtyard to what looked like a restaurant. An empty restaurant, she soon realized. The three rejoined by the fountain. 

"This looks like the downtown area where all the shops and restaurants are, _-hic!_ " Terry mused, "So you'd think any of them would be open." Eric replied, 

"Must be out on holiday. Just our luck, eh?" 

But, just to make sure, one by one they called out into the empty streets cries of "Anybody here?", "We need help!" and "Please!" punctuated by the occasional hiccup. The shouts bounced off the bright walls. 

After a couple minutes of waiting, Terry shook his head,

"Maybe they got scared at us popping up here out of nowhere and _-hic!-_ ran off. I don't think I blame 'em."

"Nah, there's no way everybody'd be able to leave in just couple of seconds," Eric dismissed. "We should try looking for the residential area, cause-"

Somewhere, a whistle floated through one of the streets, just barely audible. The three grew hushed and listened to make sure it wasn't a trick of the wind. It was a song, alright, albeit a tuneless one. Almost as soon as they perceived it, though, the whistling faded. 

The three rushed into the western street, or what was west from their point of view. They jogged along the brown brick road, the only sensibly-colored object seen so far. They were about halfway down the street when Eric suddenly stopped the others, and they strained their ears to listen once more. The whistling continued, and it was just around the corner. 

Hugging the side of an eatery that smelled like chocolate, Eric peeked into the alleyway while Terry and Carol stood next to him. 

Eric gasped and leapt out of his cover. Whatever he had seen shocked him, but intrigued him enough to want to look at it more closely. Confused, Terry and Carol joined him and they too nearly screamed. Terry hiccupped,

 _"Jesus Christ!"_ and Carol let out a wheeze as if she'd just been punched in the gut. 

The source of the whistling was dressed in a dark-blue suit and tie with suede shoes, but it was it's head and hands that caused the reaction: it had smooth green skin and black dots for eyes, and it's head was mostly one big snout like it was some kind of Muppet. It was standing at the side entrance of a rosy building that looked just like any other, only in this place "any other" meant headache-inducing. 

The snout was scrunched up, the line of it's mouth drawn into a wavy frown,

"What's the matter?" it asked them in a monotone that didn't match the expression on it's face. 

Thinking quickly, Eric answered it cheerily,

" _Wow,_ what a lovely suit you've got there!" He glared at Terry and Carol. "I just love it, what do you two think?" He was tuning into the middle-aged English housewife aspect of himself. Carol went along immediately,

"Oh, yes!" She bent her hip and placed a hand on it with dramatic flair, "You simply _must_ tell us where you bought it, you see, the three of us are just passing by, and where we come from they wouldn't know fashion if it bashed them on the head!" Carol and Eric laughed in each other's faces with upper-class obnoxiousness. 

"Uh, yeah," added Terry, unskilled in the ways of improv.

An unbearable ten seconds passed as the person kept staring at them with the same facial expression, and Eric and Carol desperately tried to keep up their performance. 

The wavy line of it's mouth straightened out,

"I got it from the village tailor," the monotone was unchanged, "but if you want to go there, you'll have to wait till the meeting here's over with." 

"Is that where everyone is?" Eric's voice shifted back closer to his normal one.

"Yeah, it's the bi-weekly Instinctual Society meeting."

The group's interests were piqued. With all these people inside, surely there would be at least _one_ person who could help them out in some way? It would probably be preferable to wandering the streets of the village lost.

Eric questioned the villager, "Can people who aren't part of the Society come in there?" Without looking away from the humans, the villager ascended a few steps and opened the red door,

"Sure you can. Anybody's free to check out what we're all about. But just so you know, outsiders tend to react, shall we say, _negatively_ to these kind of things." It paused. "Oftentimes their sensibilities are rather modest, and our beliefs might rattle them." The corners of the villager's mouth turned upward. "You don't have to like it, but make a fuss and you won't be asked to leave, if you catch my drift."

With that, the villager entered the building and closed the door behind it. 

Eric, Terry, and Carol were left standing in the alleyway. 

"Sounds like they're having a _-hic!-_ wild party in there!" Terry said, amused. Eric groaned,

"Are you really still hiccupping?" 

"Sorry I can't help it! Anyway, are we going in there or what?"

The three of them spent a good few minutes mulling over it. Eric shrugged,

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to pass through for a bit, maybe ask around. The worst that'll happen is that we'll get uncomfortable and leave." Eric and Terry waited for Carol's opinion.

"Well..." she put her finger on her chin, "I guess that sounds about right." She grinned. "The way that thing put it, it sounds like there might be an orgy going on, but that's not far off from what all of us have seen in the entertainment business, is it?"

The trio went up the steps with Eric at the front; he opened the door and the three stepped into a dark hallway. 

The inside of this building, at least, was much easier on the eyes than anything around the outside. Past the foyer was a grand open space lit by both candlelight and a chandelier hanging from the roof. Heavy satin curtains covered the windows so as to not let in the harsh light from outdoors. A cozy atmosphere was created, and the three appreciated this greatly. 

Within the chamber, a whole host of creatures of many different shapes and sizes sat in chairs of many different shapes and sizes facing towards one person who was standing on a podium. There must have been a couple hundred people in there. 

Eric, Terry, and Carol made their way into the room as inconspicuously as they could. No one seemed to care they were there. The three sat together in a single chair that was wide and tall enough to fit multiple humans. They turned their attention to the figure at the podium who was speaking. Like nearly everyone else in the room, it wore a dark suit and tie, but for this person the suit had to accommodate a rat-like tail and rather stubby arms that could only barely reach the sides of the podium. 

The three listened to the speaker, who was in the middle of it's speech,

"...now then, just as the meeting was about to start, I received word from the watchers that the Second Sage was spotted on the horizon headed for Megacorpus, so as usual, anyone who has business within the greater city had best stay here in Pleasureville till it moves on. That about does it for the news."

Terry's eyes widened. He leaned over to the others and whispered,

"Didn't that _-hic!-_ lady mention something about there being Seven Sages of something?" Everything happened so fast, it was hard for him to keep track of everything she had told them in that void. Had it been ten minutes since they were all together in there? A half hour? An hour? Who could tell? 

A collective murmur filled the chamber. The three couldn't discern what they were talking about amongst themselves. The chatter was silenced when the speaker tapped a nail against the podium. It continued,

"Yes, it's always a pleasure whenever a Sage does it's duty while we're in session." The speaker droned with reverence. "The last time that happened was five-and-a-half months ago, if I'm not mistaken." 

The humans looked at each other uneasily. If memory served them well, the woman told them the Sages were part of the "bad guys". Which included Id and... 

Eric dug his nails into the cushion. Terry G pressed his hands against his mouth as hard as he could to hold back the hiccups. Carol had a bad feeling about this. 

The speaker concluded,

"With all that out of the way, it's time for the Dance of Release. May Id drive us on."

 _"May Id drive us on!"_ And the crowd rose to their feet.

Everyone started picking up their chairs and taking them to the sides of the chamber where they stacked them neatly on top of each other. Eric, Terry, and Carol stood as well, but they weren't about to start moving their chairs. These society members were definitely a little _too_ eager to start this Dance.

"These guys are Iddites!" Terry whispered frantically. " _Hic!_ I should've guessed when that guy said Instinctual Society, the concept of Id is supposed to be all about instinct!"

"We should leave," Carol was gesturing at the door where they came in from. 

"Wait, I've got to talk to that guy first!" Eric pointed out the green villager from earlier who had been sitting in the opposite row from them, who was currently lined up to put it's chair away. 

Eric rushed over to the villager, and the others followed him reluctantly. The villager noticed them and greeted,

"So we were late to the beginning, but the Dance of Release is the best part, lemme tell ya!"

"About that," Eric tried to be delicate, "what's going on right now?" The villager looked ecstatic to be explaining to strangers,

"At the end of every meeting, members of the Instinctual Society gather in a ceremony to renew our commitment to the values of Id. You see all these suits we're wearing? They're a symbol of the restraint we have to show in order for society to function. Going to work, paying the bills, and all that. But we who follow Id know to experience life in its fullest whenever we possibly can. That is the purpose of the Dance of Release: some of us don't always get to unwind and live hedonistic lifestyles everyday, so we must periodically tear down these ridiculous social barriers so we don't forget about true pleasure."

The villager's eyes were half-lidded. It was in pure ecstacy at the mere thought of what it was about to do. "There's other Instinctual Societies all around Megacorpus, you know? This is just the Pleasureville branch. Thousands of us will Dance in unison as the Sage performs the Collection outside. I tell you, few things are more pleasurable than that!"

Until the villager mentioned the Sage, the whole Instinctual Society business was starting to sound reasonable to the three. Earth society would probably do well with a way for everyone to relieve some stress, so long as it was healthy. 

"What do you mean by Collection?" Carol asked it. The villager suddenly frowned.

"Do you three live under a rock?" it scoffed. "That would explain a lot. Id sends out his Sages all the time, they go around the cities and take a few people with them back to Id. Of course, you're not exempt if you're an Iddite, but that doesn't matter to us. It's all random chance, and it's fair. If you'd like to join us, just be aware that it's very difficult to enter and stay. It takes certain types of people who allow Id to drive them in life. It turns out most people's barriers are too thick, but that's _their_ problem."

Eric dropped his polite act, "So you mean people are being _killed?_ " 

"This is just a fact of life, buddy. Id needs to eat just like the rest of us, and his needs are particular. It's all worth it in the end." The villager's monotone shifted to a hiss, _"Are you trying to make a fuss?"_

The villager didn't let the humans defend themselves. It shouted across the room for everyone to hear, "President Omega! These three are trying to make a fuss about us!" The room fell into a hushed frenzy and the speaker from earlier darted over to the villager.

"What's all this about?" questioned the President who was baring it's fangs at the three. 

"We-" was all Eric could get out before the villager interrupted, 

"These three came to me earlier saying they were tourists, but they must be Superegotist agents who're trying to undermine us!"

"We don't know what that is-" was all Carol could get out before the President gripped her arm with one of it's long-nailed hands,

"Don't play stupid!" Omega snarled. "You think you can just waltz in here and put a stop to our Dance of Release with your _oh-so_ superior morality?!" 

The whole crowd began forming a circle around Eric and Carol that was steadily closing in. They did not look pleased that their ritual was being interrupted. Eric and Carol hugged each other tightly without realizing it and kept tripping over their words trying to explain themselves, but the pressure of all these strange people staring daggers at them was too great and they ended up sounding like a couple of idiots. 

Before the crowd closed in on them, Terry had seen the writing on the wall and managed to slip away. He was making his way toward the exit at a deliberate pace so no one would notice. He was about halfway down, and he might have been able to make it, except...

_"Hic!"_

_"Don't let the other one get away!"_ The green villager screeched. 

Terry bolted, but it was too late. The tips of his fingers only managed to brush against the doorknob before a couple of the society members caught up to him and picked him up like a ragdoll. Terry thrashed his body as hard as he could but he couldn't escape from their grips. 

The members took Terry back into the chamber and shoved him back next to Eric and Carol. The crowd grew quiet again when the President spoke,

"I'm going to call the cell corps and have you arrested for disturbing the peace." Someone in the back suggested with glee,

"They should be offered to Id for delaying our Dance!" The floor shook from the cheer that erupted, but the President silenced them,

" _Quiet, quiet!_ You know we're not supposed to influence the Sages during their Collection, it's supposed to be up to random chance who they gather." The Society mumbled their agreement, disappointed. The President said to one of the members, "Vice President? Would you take these three into the basement while I call the corps? And guard the door while we wait for them, won't you?" 

A very big fellow stepped forward, the candles rattling as it did so. The suit it was wearing strained to not be torn apart by it's stony girth. With one swift motion it scooped the trio into it's arms and made it's way to a door on the side of the chamber.

 _"Wait!"_ Eric cried, "This is all a big mistake!" But his pleas fell on deaf ears. 

The three resisted fighting the Vice President, knowing it could easily crush their chests if it wanted to. The Vice President dragged their feet across the floor until it came upon the plain wooden door and opened it. 

The Vice President tossed them inside as if they were nothing more than bags of dirt. The three flew past the stairs and crashed onto the concrete floor.

Terry landed on his side, his head banging against the ground. Carol landed right next to him, her arm scraping against the concrete floor as she did so, and tears stung her eyes. Her and Terry then both had to bear Eric coming down right in between them, his head bumping against Terry's chest, but thanks to their cushioning Eric was the least harmed.

The Vice President shut the door, leaving the three in total darkness once again, and they continued to lie on the hard floor, unmoving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started this chapter, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to make it long enough and that a lot of it would just be repeats of the other POVs, but as it turns out this is the longest chapter so far! Funny how inspiration strikes.


	6. Ripping Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry J and Michael have a close encounter with the Second Sage.

"We're almost there."

The unfamiliar voice yanked Michael out of his thoughts. It took him a second to realize it was just the cab driver speaking. It was the first time the driver had ever spoken, which made it an unusually quiet person in it's profession. Perhaps it would've been a good idea to strike up a conversation and maybe learn more about this place, but neither Michael nor Terry were particularly in the mood for chatter at the moment.

The driver pointed a tentacle towards the end of the street where a building stood that looked to be older than the surrounding ones. Made of stone instead of steel, the Hamstring Information Center didn't stand on its own so much as it was squished in between two taller skyscrapers that had clearly been built afterward without any regard for spacing and were progressively asserting their dominance over time, which gave the edifice a misshapen form like it was in the process of melting. Besides that, the Hamstring's most prominent feature was a steeple that bent at an acute angle.

The buggy turned and pulled over to the side of the road. The driver looked at Michael and Terry with it's fishy face, "Here ya go, the Hamstring Information Center."

Michael and Terry sat in the meat-like seats, looking back and forth between the driver and the building. This was the moment they'd been dreading ever since they had been told they needed to take a cab. Terry asked the driver with hesitation,

"Is that all? Are we supposed to pay the fare? We're new here, you see, so we don't really know what you do for these sorts of things..." The driver let out a strange gurgling sound, then replied,

"What are ya talking about? We drivers get paid a salary here." Although the men didn't show it outwardly, for the first time since they got dumped in the city they were relieved. Terry said back to the driver,

"We were just wondering. Thank you very much." and he and Michael opened their doors. The two left and stepped onto the sidewalk; the cab promptly left them, and that was that. Good thing, too, because if Michael had to stay in that cab for another minute he probably would've gotten sick from that smell. 

Michael and Terry eyed the Information Center, with Michael getting another one of those silly irrational fears that if he and Terry stepped inside, the two adjoining skyscrapers would crush the whole thing into rubble. 

Terry seemed to notice he looked nervous, so he said to Michael warmly, "Let's get started, shall we?" and Michael nodded. 

The two made their way up the white steps leading up to the entrance, and there were enough of them that by the time they got up to the top a bit of the wind was knocked out of them. After taking a moment to catch their breath, Michael and Terry went to the front door, which, because it was in the center, did not look as malformed as other parts of the building that were being pressed on.

Terry went inside first, followed closely by Michael. At first, they thought they were alone because the area was dead silent other than the opening and closing of the door, but they soon caught sight of a few attendants sitting quietly at their rather tall desks. But, otherwise, Michael and Terry were the only visitors around. The employees didn't acknowledge their presence in any way, being occupied by reading books or taking a nap on their desks. 

Michael pointed out a large map placed on the wall next to them and together he and Terry tried to decipher it. The map mostly encompassed Megacorpus, which they now saw was in the shape of a perfect square, with the city being divided into four different-colored quadrants representing each borough. That much was easy to understand. However, while trying to figure out exactly where they were in relation to everything else, Michael and Terry realized with cold horror that they couldn't read any of the writing. It had no resemblance to any language from Earth and might as well have been a bunch of scribbles. 

"This will be rather embarrassing," Michael whispered to Terry, "but we've got to ask one of these people for help. And besides, at some point we've got to decide where to go next." Terry grimaced; the task of looking for the other Pythons in this city was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack... in the dark, with one hand tied behind their backs, and in the middle of a raging storm. 

The two walked cautiously over to the nearest desk. The attendant, a fellow covered in shimmering scales, finally noticed them and put down it's book,

"Welcome to the Hamstring Information Center," it spoke with a perky tone, "how can I help you?" 

_With everything_ , they both would've liked to say, but they didn't. Terry picked up a pamphlet from a rack next to the desk that unfolded into a smaller map,

"Yes, well, we sort of rolled into this city without noticing, and first we'd appreciate it if you would show us where we are." Terry handed the pamphlet over to the employee, who unfolded it and held it up for them to see. The employee pointed at the green quadrant in the lower-right,

"Uh, okay, you see this area? That's Musculus." The employee placed a manicured nail in the center. "You're right in the middle. It connects to the main road that goes through the Femoral Vein, which is probably where you came from, right?"

"Sure," Terry lied. He assumed Vein was just a fancy term for a tunnel. All these references to different body parts were starting to irritate him. 

The employee gave Terry the map back and asked,

"So, do you want to book a hotel, or are you looking for something else?" 

Michael took over,

"We are looking for something, actually," he told the employee. "Or _someone_ in this case. More than some _one_ , really. There's five other people in our party that we've lost contact with. Would you happen to know how we could go about locating them?" 

The employee didn't respond. It just stared at the two men blankly. The citizen from Funtime Park had looked at them much the same way, with that same expression that read confusion under all the inhuman features. Michael and Terry must look so strange to these people. The employee turned to the attendant sitting next to it, who looked up from it's book and met eyes with it. Whatever they were thinking about, they were on the same page. 

The scaly employee faced the men again. It cleared it's throat,

"I'm... not sure what it is you expect us to do other than call the cell corps." It was trying to be professionally polite, but it couldn't hide the incredulousness from it's voice. "This is just a tourist center. We can report missing tourists, but that's about it. Do you want me to call the corps for you?" 

Michael and Terry scrambled to think of something to say. Maybe they should've gone to these cell corps right away. Maybe these coppers here aren't so bad. But at the same time, there was also a chance that they could be even worse than the ones from Earth. It was Schrödinger's Cop. Hell, they could _literally_ be pigs for all they knew.

Michael finally said to the employee, "Could you excuse us for a minute?" and he led Terry back close to the entrance. He could feel the attendants' stares on his back. 

Terry was fidgeting, on the verge of losing his temper. Michael whispered into his ear, "Why are we so afraid to tell these people the truth? The whole business about the woman is probably common knowledge here. I don't think we're going to get anywhere by pretending we're just visitors." The whispering echoed through the empty space, so the others could probably hear him, but Michael didn't care. 

"I don't really know." Terry ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I'm worried she'll pop out and punish us for mentioning her to other people. It's silly, but I don't know what to do..." he trailed off. Without having to exchange anymore words, Michael knew what he had to do. 

He and Terry came back to the desk. Michael opened his mouth, but just as he was about to inform the employee about the truth, a siren began wailing from somewhere inside the city. 

All four employees reacted to this calmly. Three of them began to put away their papers and books while the fourth awoke from it's nap. Michael and Terry peeked at the entrance from the corner of their eyes; the pedestrians outside begin started to disperse, entering the nearest buildings. It was all very quiet and orderly, which gave the men the slightest bit of comfort.

"What's going on?" asked Michael nervously. Again, the scaly employee gave them another one of those blank stares.

"That means one of the Sages are coming. You two can stay in here if you like." Then Terry asked,

"This might sound like a ridiculous question, but what do these Sages do?" Just as he thought, one of the attendants snickered.

The scaled employee's reply was exasperated, all attempt at sounding cheery dropped,

"I don't know where you two come from where you don't know this stuff. Haven't you ever seen one? Let me put it this way: You go outside, you might die." The employee hopped off it's chair and went around it's desk. It gestured towards the crooked window on the other side of the room. "Here, depending on which Sage is coming, we'll be able to see it." 

Reluctantly, Michael and Terry tiptoed over to the window. They leaned in close, and soon all the workers joined them. The men followed their gazes and looked up at the sky. 

A flying creature was approaching the city rapidly. It was first nothing more than a black splotch against the sky, but soon enough it's massive wings could be seen beating. Eventually, Michael could make out the Sage's skull-white head and clawed hands for forelegs reminiscent of a griffin. 

As the Sage approached the edges of Megacorpus, a hideous scream erupted from the creature that pierced through the dull siren, rattling Michael and Terry to their bones. The cry faded, and with the speed of a jet it swooped over the city just above the skyscrapers. As it passed over the Hamstring Information Center, a shadow blanketed the streets below for but a moment. 

Michael and Terry only caught a quick glimpse of the Sage at it's closest before it flew by, but the sight of it's jagged fangs, and, if they weren't mistaken, startlingly humanlike blue eyes that bulged out of their sockets, was burned into their minds so that when they inevitably flinched and closed their own eyes, the image of the Sage remained behind their eyelids. 

An oily liquid trailed off the monstrous bird as it went, splattering the roads and buildings below with a line of black sludge. 

"I hate it when it does that," one of the other workers remarked, "it always leaves such a mess whenever it comes around." 

The scaled employee noticed Michael and Terry were completely dumbfounded, standing around with their jaws unhinged, so it said to them as if it were talking down to children,

"What? Have you two never been visited by the Second Sage before? You know, the Blackbile Bird? The name's pretty self explanatory, as you've seen by now. If you think this one's bad, wait till you see the other ones!" 

They remembered now. There were supposed to be seven of them. Trembling, Michael questioned the employee,

"What _are_ the other Sages?" The other three workers abruptly laughed out loud, and Michael blushed. The scaled employee hushed it's coworkers,

"Hey, these guys oughta know, right? It's our job to let people know about stuff, right?" The others huffed in agreement. It began listing them off, "Well, let's see, there's Lunatic the First, Blackbile the Second - which you now know - Cordius the Third, Ysbryd the Fourth - oh, I _hate_ that one, it scares me - Rhapsody the Fifth, Piscillax the Sixth, and Rust the Seventh... These names don't really fit a theme, I know, but they just sorta got attached to the Sages separately over time."

Michael and Terry waited for the fellow to elaborate on any of these other Sages, but it went back to looking out the window. Terry was about to press it for more details when the Second Sage made another round over the area. The Blackbile Bird was higher up now, but it was circling all of Megacorpus the same way a buzzard will wait for the perfect meal. Terry cursed himself for being so afraid, but he knew deep down it was perfectly natural to be terrified out of his goddamn mind in this circumstance. 

Meanwhile, several people had come inside to seek shelter, and they were idly chatting with each other about topics that had nothing to do with the current situation. And down on the streets, there were still a few straggling pedestrians who kept strolling at a leisurely pace, and the cars drove by in no hurry. Come to think of it, even the siren itself went on like it couldn't give less of a damn.

Without warning, the Second Sage screeched again and dove down several miles west of the Information Center, but the impact of its landing shook the windows; the _thump_ as it made contact with the roads sent waves up Michael and Terry's legs. 

The men rushed over to the entrance so they could continue to see the Sage. The Blackbile Bird's wings were spread behind itself, probably in consideration of the buildings beside it, but what it was currently doing otherwise certainly wasn't you would call considerate at all. 

It growled, a low sound that could have come from the depths of the earth - or rawmaish, in this case. The Sage had selected it's target. If there was any reason why it did so, only it would know. The bird clamped onto something in the road, it's powerful jaws totally crushing the metal. It lifted it's head, and the men finally saw what it caught: through the gaps of it's fangs, the dark purple color of one of the cabs was being held hostage inside the creature's gnarled pale beak. Anyone currently inside the cab would only be having a few non-essential bones broken _at best._ More of that oily liquid continuously oozed from the Sage's mouth.

With little effort, the Sage pushed itself back up into the air with the cab in tow, and within seconds it was soaring back to wherever it came from.

And then, it was gone. 

The siren ceased it's pathetic whine. The people who had come in for shelter all left until it was just Michael, Terry, and the employees, who promptly went straight back to work. It was business as usual. 

Michael and Terry simultaneously heaved in relief. Michael's legs were all wobbly and Terry was sweating profusely. The way the two acted must have made _them_ the crazy ones right now to the strangers when everyone else reacted to this giant monster like it was a minor inconvenience. Terry called out to the scaly worker,

"What's going to happen to those people in the cab?" The worker shrugged,

"They'll be taken to Id for his consumption. There must've been quite a few folks in there since ole' Blackbird usually makes a few dives to get enough people."

Terry's face was pink.

"And you think that's alright?!" He marched up to the desk. "These Sages aren't some bad weather coming through, and if their name isn't irony then these are _thinking_ creatures who are deliberately hurting you, and you're all fine with people being killed?" He was leaning closer to the employee's face. "What if it were you or your loved ones who were taken away just now? Would you be so _ho-hum_ about it?"

"Perhaps I would," the attendant shot back. Terry got out of it's personal space. That wasn't the answer he was expecting. Another one of the workers added with disdain,

"Listen, buddy, you probably don't know this since you, like, clearly don't know anything, but if it weren't for Id keeping the Sages in line, we'd all be dead by now. Sure, a few people have to die by their hands every few days, but so what? People die everyday in this city regardless! So if I were you and your friend, I'd be a little more grateful that things ain't as bad as they could be." The scaled employee said to them impatiently,

"So do you want me to call the cell corps or not?"

The four citizens' judgement silenced Terry.

Now, Michael knew it was time to tell the truth. 

Taking a deep breath, he explained to the employees the whole story up to this point: How they were from Earth, that they were chosen by this strange woman in a robe to stop the bad guys somehow and the Pythons' subsequent separation from each other... He gave them rapid-fire details like Graham being turned into a duck and and the time he fell on his elbow in the cave, which were probably unnecessary to talk about but Michael wanted to drive the whole thing home. 

The employees sat at their desks and passively drank it all in. If there were other people to attend to, Michael and Terry surely would have been dismissed by now. Perhaps it was boredom from the workers that allowed Michael to spit out his tale uninterrupted. 

"...and that's when we came here!" When Michael was finished, a new surge of energy flowed through his veins. The scaled employee's response was surprisingly quick,

"Wow, that's really interesting!" It clapped it's hands together, "Um, okay, I'll tell you what, I'm gonna call the corps so they can help you look for your friends, and before I do that, why don't I take you to our break room so you can rest for a bit. How does that sound?" Terry folded his arms.

"You don't believe us, do you?" The employee's black eyes widened.

"Oh, sure I do! I know about the person you're talking about, that's the Mage. She's something of a celebrity." It stood up. "Come on, let me take you into the break room." It waved at the employee who told Terry he should be grateful earlier, and it joined it's coworker. 

Michael and Terry followed the two down a hall with a door on the side. The scaled employee opened it to reveal a closet. 

Before they could even register what was going on, Michael and Terry were shoved into the cramped space by the two employees. The door slammed, and the sound of jangling keys followed. The men tried desperately to get the door back open but it was too late: the employees had pressed their bodies against it on the other side and locked it, leaving the two in complete darkness, and unlike the void they had recently been in, Michael and Terry couldn't see each other.

"These idiots working with the Mage wanna make things even worse!" said one employee to the other, and they walked away. 

As much as Michael and Terry wanted to bang on the door and shout every expletive known to man, they knew it would be useless, so instead all they did was slump onto the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been getting these references in these last few chapter titles, good work.
> 
> I'm leaving you with the tease of the other six Sages so you'll have to guess what they look like based on their names for now. Hee hee.


	7. The Unlabeled Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graham and John get new names.

John and Graham were currently having much better luck than the rest of their friends, but unfortunately they didn't realize their comparative good fortune and so they were sulking as they trudged behind the satyr and the spider. The two townsfolk were leading them down a road that went all the way through Cerebellum and continued on towards a dock by the sea. 

Once they had a clear view of the sea that lay before them, John and Graham spotted a white-colored ferry at the dock, and beyond that the city of Megacorpus stood almost mundane from this distance. Cornelius explained to them,

"We'll be taking the _Judgement_ across the lake, it's much faster than going around. We should arrive on the other side in just over a half-hour." 

The men were somewhat surprised to hear that this massive body of water was nothing more than a lake. They couldn't perceive any land connecting Cerebellum and Megacorpus together. 

As the group neared the boat, John, disappointed by the earlier exposition having been so rudely interrupted by the Sage, decided to ask Cornelius to go on,

"So, as you were saying back in that temple..." 

"I appreciate your eagerness to learn more about Rawmaish," the satyr laughed, "but all in good time, John Cleese." John shook his head. _Don't rush things, John. You're going to be stuck here for a while. Better accept that or else it'll be the death of you._ So John said nothing back.

The road came to an end and was replaced by a metallic dock. The group of four made their way down the winding path where someone was waiting for them on the ferry's ramp. Neither Cornelius nor Sigourney said anything to the person, who was covered in a long, yellow raincoat, boots, and oversized hat that didn't give much about it's true appearance away. Cornelius and the sailor merely nodded at each other as if they were telepathically communicating. 

The satyr lead the way, stepping onto the boat.

The _Judgement_ was a humble vessel that could only charitably fit a couple dozen people at most. The decks were stained pink with whatever gave the lake its striking color, and the ferry itself only consisted of a lower deck located downstairs, a main deck, and a bridge. It certainly wasn't built to be a cruise ship. Cornelius started to go down the steps a few feet ahead into the lower deck,

"Come along, now, let's talk some more down here." The other three followed Cornelius down the short flight of stairs. 

Other than one bolted-down table, some chairs, and a few benches the lower deck was nothing much to take note about except for the strange lighting effected by the water lapping not far beneath the windows. The reddish filter combined with the low lighting of the deck itself gave the space quite the sinister appearance, as if this were a place where only a select few were allowed to enter, where illicit meetings would take place to decide someone's horrible fate. 

John shivered. It was much cooler down by the water. He forced himself to get rid of this paranoia, _Why don't we save the worrying for when there's something to actually worry about, like when we start to look for the others, or how to get home?_ But it was difficult for him to get rid of this dread. He'd have to be on this planet for a very long time before he would begin to truly trust the people on it. 

Cornelius and Sigourney sat at the table and beckoned the men to join them. The sound of the ramp being lifted could be heard upstairs. 

John and Graham seated themselves and patiently awaited for either Cornelius or Sigourney to continue speaking.

Fortunately for their patience, Cornelius spoke once more in a matter-of-fact tone, "Once we get close to land, we'll have to take a lifeboat the rest of the way onto the beach, since no harbor or dock would dare take us in." He stared at the two with those intense yellow eyes. "From there, we make our way into one of the neighborhoods in the Nervosus borough where we'll meet up with a few of our fellow agents and begin the search for your friends." 

Graham raised an eyebrow,

"I take it you're not very popular in the bigger city." Sigourney chuckled,

"Not at all. Iddites and Superegotists don't get along, and unfortunately most of the politicians in Megacorpus and other cities happen to be Iddites." 

"You're Superegotists?" asked John. "Is there a Superego that opposes Id? And logic dictates there must also be an Ego with, I assume, Egotists." 

Corneilus and Sigourney slowly turned to face each other, the ten eyes between them widening. They quickly whipped their heads back at the men. 

"How did you know?" Sigourney's voice was almost a whisper, two of it's arms were raised to it's cheeks. "You're outsiders, aren't you? Did the Mage tell you, she never did that for anyone else this soon after their arrivals!" 

John leaned back in his chair. "She didn't tell us. It was an educated guess. Ever heard of a fellow named Sigmund Freud? Several decades ago, he made these theories about personalities..." 

The two Rawmaishians looked at each other again. The look of shock on Cornelius's face disappeared and he said back at John in that rich, confidant voice John and Graham were starting to recognize as the tone of self-assured-but-possibly-not-warranted wisdom,

"Well, this Freud must have gotten those ideas from Rawmaish, since Id and the rest came about centuries ago. Things from our universe tend to slip into others, and vice versa. Objects, phantoms, strange visions, that sort of thing. The veil that separates our realities can be quite thin sometimes." Then, Sigourney told John and Graham more solemnly,

"There _used_ to be a Superego and Ego. They've..."

"Gone to meet their maker?" offered Graham.

"Perhaps," Sigourney replied thoughtfully. "Id had them killed many years ago for opposing his ideas. We Superegotists came about to carry on Superego's legacy of following our consciences." It took a moment to wipe away the tears on the left side of it's face. "If it weren't for the Mage, I don't know what we'd do." 

The group fell silent. Meanwhile, the _Judgment_ began its departure from the shoreline of Cerebellum, filling the air with the hum of the turning propellers. 

Now that John and Graham were situated in a seemingly safe location for the time being, they were feeling comfortable enough to really mull over the implications this new planet presented in relation to Earth and the humans who call it home. Neither John nor Graham were the type to think in metaphysics. They were more concerned with introspection and philosophies relating to human interaction, thinking not cosmically but locally.

They were both content with the probability that we were all alone in the universe and that everything we would ever experience in life was all we were going to get; however, they weren't opposed to having their minds changed if something else came along with all the evidence waving banners saying: _"We were real all along, you twats, now don't you feel silly!"_ That's my guess, anyway. 

Right now, the evidence was beating those banners into them. 

John wondered if all those supposed paranormal experiences people had which weren't yet totally debunked by science or common sense could be explained away by what Cornelius said about "veils of reality", like ghosts, aliens, a few mythological creatures, and so on. Granted, that left very _few_ of those experiences which nobody had a concrete answer for, but it was certainly a brain-teaser. 

Graham, with a tiny smirk on his face, thought about how if there _were_ some higher entity that created everything, then every religion on Earth got it all wrong (as far as he was aware of) because there was nary a mention of another planet in another universe with a bunch of monsters as the dominant species. Unless, of course, Rawmaish was actually an embarrassing prototype that God couldn't bear to erase yet purposely neglected to mention its existence to His newer children.

Eventually, John's mind could be felt getting more and more lost within the rabbit holes of deeper thought, and so he jolted everyone out of their contemplation by asking,

"Well, anyway, if there's Iddites and Superegotists, then where are the Egotists?"

Cornelius and Sigourney's melancholy were usurped by revulsion in an instant,

"If you should ever come across an Egotist on your journey, you'd do well to not listen to their lies!" Sigourney said in a sneer that was unlike anything the men had heard from it so far. "Those wishy-washy twits like to think the people on all sides can coexist as they are; the Egotists say they're simply acting in neutrality - "Oh, both you Supers and Iddites are a little too zealous, you need to dial it back some" - but the Iddites have gone too far!" Sigourney leapt out of it's chair and had all it's arms outstretched. "This is a matter of basic decency! Id would not have all the power he wields today if the Iddites didn't terrorize most of the people into submission, but the Egotists are too arrogant to acknowledge that!"

Sigourney was gasping for air, and Cornelius patted it on the shoulder to get it to sit back down. 

When the monologue was over, John and Graham only nodded, glancing at each other in agreement. While Sigourney was in all likelihood _probably_ right about the Egotists, they weren't about to take what it said to heart just yet. After all, they hadn't even met any of these chaps yet, nor had they met any Iddites, either. Besides, they had only really _just_ met these Superegotists. 

Cornelius clapped it's hands together, "Oh, come now, let us not wallow in hate!" it bellowed. "This may just be the beginning of the end for Id, and I think we ought to celebrate!" It said to Sigourney cheerfully, "Don't you think we should begin the initiation?" 

_"Initiation?"_ Graham parroted hesitantly.

"Yes, Graham Chapman!" replied Cornelius, "Since you two were brought to us, it's only natural that we induct you into the Superegotists." 

Graham stirred in his seat. "We never said anything about joining any club." He wasn't going to let anyone slap whatever they wanted onto him, even if they acted friendly on the outside. 

At this point, John wasn't going to bother trying to keep Graham's trap shut since he agreed with him on this matter and they didn't appear to be in any danger. Luckily for everyone, Cornelius and Sigourney were aware enough to realize what they were doing and backed off. 

"Sorry about that," Cornelius apologized. "My mistake. I just assumed since you heard everything we said to you, you would be keen to join us by now, but you still only just arrived here, haven't you?" It shook Graham's hand. "So for now, we'll just be united by a common interest." 

Sigourney looked a little disappointed, "Oh, I would have loved to see what new names you would've chosen." It saw the puzzled looks on John and Graham's faces and elaborated, "All Superegotists choose an epithet that describes themselves in some way, like a personality trait, a physical trait, or anything that has a special meaning to them. I'm Sigourney the Weaver, that's Cornelius the Horned, the captain of this ship is Moss the Soggy, and so on." 

john questioned, "But why do you do it?"

"Because it's _fun!_ " retorted Cornelius. "It's not all serious business here. We've got to have a little fun every once in a while or else things will get too depressing!" It froze for a few seconds before continuing in a lighter voice, "I know you're not joining us just yet, but... if you _were_ to join us, what would your new nicknames be? You don't have to answer if you don't want to..."

John was quite annoyed by this show of passive-aggressiveness, but he couldn't help himself. He was going to allow himself to have a teensy bit of fun for the moment because he knew full well that the journey ahead was going to be a tough one. John settled on his answer almost immediately:

"Let's see, if I _were_ to become one of you, I'd like to be John the Cheese." He could hear Graham not very subtly snorting. 

Cornelius titled it's head, "If you don't mind me asking, why did you pick Cheese?" 

"That was my father's surname before he changed it to Cleese. Damn shame he did that, in my opinion. I'd reclaim it if I were to join you." He realized he was grinning like an idiot. 

Despite everything, this was all very silly. 

Besides, he thought "John the Cheese" was a better name than "Horn the Horned" sitting across from him. Cornelius said to John,

"It's very nice to have a name with such a significant meaning to you. A very good choice, if I do say so myself."

"Indeed!" Sigourney agreed.

Cornelius turned to Graham, "And what would _yours_ be?" it asked politely. 

Graham crossed his arms and let out a very theatrical sigh. Fine, he would play along. He thought about what this fake nomenclature would be for a minute longer than John did. There were so many different ones to choose from: Graham the Gray? No, he wouldn't want to have people calling him "Gray the Gray." It would be funny at first but get old very quickly. Graham the Doctor? But "Doctor" was already in front of his name, so "Doctor Graham the Doctor" would again get redundant. Graham the Mountaineer? He wasn't _that_ much of a mountaineer. Graham the Mostly-Homosexual? Best not to reduce himself to merely his sexual identity, and also too long. Graham the Comedian/Actor/Writer? But he wasn't unique in that regard within the Pythons. Graham the Ex-Alcoholic? Many people throughout history attached names to themselves after their greatest victories, but Graham didn't want to boil his life down to one thing he did years ago. 

He decided he had thought far too long and hard about it. 

"Unlabeled. I would be Graham the Unlabeled." Cornelius scratched at the fur beneath it's chin,

"How very interesting. You would be the first to choose something like that." 

John playfully punched Graham's shoulder, "That _is_ a label, you idiot!"

"No it isn't. When I say "Unlabeled" it cancels the label out, you know what I mean?" He was suppressing his laughter, but he couldn't hide the corners of his mouth turning upward. John scoffed,

"Let's just call it a paradox and leave it at that." 

The collective mood had been lifted just enough to be noticeable, and even the oppressive red lighting was starting to take on a more rosy feeling. 

Unfortunately, it wouldn't last long. Cornelius and Sigourney went quiet, and although John and Graham felt like they had gained enough new, relevant information to think about for a while, the uncertainty of the future continued to creep up on them like a thick fog as the _Judgement_ came closer to its destination.

Several minutes passed by when Cornelius walked over to one of the windows and peered out at the skyline of Megacorpus.

"Ah, the Blackbile Bird has left," it said in relief. "I told you two that you wouldn't have to worry about it by the time we get there." 

This put the men more at ease, but not by much. 

The longer John sat at the table, the more the rocking of the boat made him feel dizzy. It wasn't a violent rocking in any way, and he wasn't one to get seasick, but it certainly didn't help as his mind raced with increasing speed over the various ways their journey could come to an end.

The one scenario that kept flashing in and out was the one where the seven might be stuck on this planet for decades, and when the strange woman finally sent them home they would appear unrecognizable to their friends and families, and in turn Earth would be unrecognizable to them, with futuristic technologies they couldn't even fathom and years upon years' worth of history having gone by that they missed out on. 

John stood up in an instant,

"I'm going to go get some fresh air." 

Cornelius and Sigourney said nothing, so John left. As he went up the stairs, Graham got up up as well and followed right after him. 

The two went up onto the main deck. John took in a deep breath of the air - it wasn't salty at all, but this was a lake, after all. He and Graham stood portside and looked out at Megacorpus. Now that they were more than halfway across the lake, they were beginning to see the individual, nonsensical outlines of some of the skyscrapers. Here on the main deck, they were alone, with everyone else either being in the bridge or the lower deck. 

"Gray?"

"Hm?" 

John wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say, only that he wanted to talk with the only person he could trust right now. "I've been thinking: If we had all never met, then this wouldn't have happened, would it?" 

Graham stiffened. "Are you saying you're regretting everything you've done? About meeting me and the rest?"

"No, no, no!" John said. "I'm just saying that because the woman said she only picked us because we're a whole, right? I'm just speculating what would have happened if - let's say, maybe - no, what if..." 

He placed his head into his hands. "I don't know what I'm saying. Forget it."

"If there's something you want to tell me, then just spit it out."

"I can't spit it out if there's nothing!" John snapped; he went on quietly, "I need more time to think about it. I'll tell you later when I've organized my thoughts better."

Graham's face was expressionless. He went over to the rail of the ferry and leaned on it to look out at nothing in particular. John sighed and went back downstairs. He'd gotten enough fresh air for now. 

There was something else he was going to say to Graham, but as he was talking he realized that Graham might take it the wrong way, and judging by Graham's reaction to what he _did_ say, he had realized correctly. John didn't want to sound like an arsehole, but he almost said was that if this journey were to go down a certain amount of shit, then he'd figure it would have been better for the Pythons to have never met at all, or at least for all seven to have never joined together. It would have to be a whole lot of shit, though.

Hopefully, he would never have to sincerely come to that conclusion, and he silently cursed that Mage for bringing them here just because of who they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is dipping its toes into the deep end, and it ain't because this chapter takes place on a lake. This might be my favorite chapter so far.
> 
> One of my main goals of this story is to simultaneously treat it like the joke it is while also treating it more seriously where it would make sense to. Kind of like how the Python's movies have that mix of being very silly while also being grounded in a foundation of the real world, if that makes sense.


End file.
